


The Nightmare

by KagamiSorciere



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: This isn't a pretty picture but it's not -that- bad I don't think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4951942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagamiSorciere/pseuds/KagamiSorciere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since her encounter with the Labyrinth, she's had The Dream. Not all the time. Just...on nights where everything seems to be at stake. And, as sleep feigns to take her in its arms, the dark tendrils of "that place" creep into her light of day as if to blacken out the very sun. Usually she can turn it, break free, but this time it drags her to the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

There was a night, oh….so long ago now. A night she'd rather forget completely. A night that, now, after terrible advice from therapists, her parents, and even questions from her friends, she rather thought never actually happened at all. But it was like the night of her first major final exams since that 'visit', the night before her high school graduation, the night before her first real job even, where as she lay herself to sleep, and gently closed her eyes, she could almost see it, just flickers of it, once again. The stark stone walls, the vividly green and impeccably manicured hedges…she found herself floating above them. And everything she saw was wrong.

A troll-like creature she recalled affectionately as 'Hoggle' was chased through its corridors, prodded with gleaming swords by shielded men on creature-back, running endlessly, some nights even running to death, while her other gentle companion, Ludo, hung by one giant leg from a massive and gnarled tree as he was seared with hot irons, bits of thick fur burning away never to grow back again. Deep in the forests, the valiant Didymus, surrounded by rabid Fierys, was pulled limb from limb- parts tossed like game pieces mixed with their own limbs.

Generally, this was enough to get her to pull away, but on some nights she saw what never could have been- the utterly impossible. Toby, her brother, now seven or eight, running mad through the streets of what had been the Goblin City, thrashing here and there, wild from lack of human contact. He was savage, his arms especially full of scars that Sarah refused to ponder the origins of.

" _Offer up a prayer, if you must,"_ it would whisper on the wind,  
" _Offer up the very light, too— your cowering won't be forgiven either_  
_Even if you avert your eyes, the thoughtlessly forgotten boy  
will continue to hide his wrists' sinful scars."_

To make matters worse, sometimes she would see the aftermath, her home, where she alone was the returnee, and her stepmother mad with grief only to instantly see her lying dead on the carpet. The reaction was always the same.

_Sarah's 15 year old self gasped. "Oh my god!" she wailed, covering her mouth with her hands. She was hyperventilating._

" _Oh my_ god _!" she screamed. She yelled and cried, tore at her hair. Nothing to be done, nothing to be done…_

_Finally, she would lean over the body, close to the unhearing ear, and she would whisper. "I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…it's my fault…it's my fault….I couldn't get Toby back…"_

If the dream got that far, it was too hard to wake herself up from it. But as painful as the scene was, it was always quick. As she leaned over, rocking herself to and fro, murmuring into the ear of her rapidly rotting stepmother, she would hear:

" _To his rotting mother's corpse, continue to murmur…_  
_Let the youthful bouquet put in your hand slip away like your past form._  
_Kind, that gaze, isn't it? Like an unsullied girl_  
_Staring only into changeless time…"_

It was then, usually, that she would see him. Mostly as a blur, some indistinct shape slowly taking over the horrific scenes she suffered through, emerging like some dark saint with a halo of white gold.

" _Since there's no such pain…Ohh, do not cry…"_ he would sing. Yes, she remembered- she'd seen this part before.  
" _Because if it's peace of mind you want, I'll grant it as you desire…_  
_Since there's nothing to fear, no, no….come to my side…_  
_There are no more stains of sin- I've snatched all of yours away…"_

Yes, heard it before. It was oddly comforting despite the dream-guilt that still clung to her like talons severing its prey. Usually, this is where she'd wake up. Usually. She looked down at her hands. A scream tried desperately to escape from her throat, but she felt paralyzed, unable to hardly move, as her hands practically glimmered with fresh, hot blood.

" _Since there's no such pain…Ohh, do not cry_  
_Because if it's peace of mind you want, I'll grant it as you desire…"_  
Sarah looked up, and this time, the shape in the distance sharpened.  
" _Since there's nothing to fear, no, no….come to my side…"_ he beckoned, and he seemed to move, or did she move? , without exerting a muscle.

_There are no more stains of sin- it's alright should you easily, sweetly go to sleep…"_

As he sang, the melody became more discordant and her legs buckled beneath her. _Sleep….why can't I wake up?_ She looked up into his face and unsteadily reached out, smearing a blood-caked hand across his alabaster cheek, and as she lost her ability to stand, dragged her sullied hands down his tunic, staining it forever an unnatural crimson.

_"Since there is no anguish…Ohh, do not cry…"_ he cooed, and caught her falling form in his arms. He didn't seem to see how he was smeared in the blood from her hands, or he didn't care. He cradled her now, in his arms, as she looked up, mind trapped in the horror whirling around her. Her friends. Her brother. Her fault. All her fault. The castle, too- her fault. The castle….

" _Since you can't run away….  
Since I forgive you everything….  
Since it isn't over….  
come to my side…"_

Sarah lay in his arms now, surrounded by the fathomless white, and she began to weep. He raised up a hand and brushed away her tangled hair from her face. _"There are no more stains of sin- because I snatched all of yours away from you…"_ he continued to sing, his lips pressed against her forehead now, rocking her in his arms. The cacophony swelled and the white, like years and years of layered paint, began peeling away leaving nothing but void in its wake. Sarah started in his arms, struggling to stop herself somehow from falling in, but he held her close. _"Until forever and a day, I will not forget you…"_ he murmured and, as the blackness closed in, she felt her very being pressed against him.

" _There now…"_ that voice said. _"Close your eyes."_

Sarah shot up what felt like ten feet and bounced off of her mattress which nearly bounced her onto the floor. Her breathing was heavy, and she contemplated screaming, but decided to aggressively reach out for her bedside lamp instead. Nearly knocking it over before turning it on, Sarah flipped around, pasted her back against her headboard, and scrutinized every inch of her apartment bedroom until her breathing had calmed. Satisfied that she was its only occupant, her eyes glanced at the door, and a shock went through her when she noticed to her horror it was unlocked. Trying her best to keep calm, she girded herself, and in one swift movement bounded off of the bed, slammed into the door, locked it, and leapt back into bed again. She grabbed her pillow and hugged it tightly, even going so far as to wrap her legs around it as well, and nervously bit at the corner of it pointed in her face.

As she tried to collect her thoughts, she recollected the nightmare, and hugged her pillow tighter. There was more to it this time. This time, the song had finished. This time, the very world fell down. Tears stung at her eyes as she bit more strongly at the corner of fluff. She was terrified, horrified, and furious all at once. Her eyes, then, drifted over to her dresser. On the corner, tucked behind a photo of happy, healthy 12 year old Toby, was a white paper bag. Cautiously, no longer afraid of the shadows in her room, she gravitated towards the small parcel and stood before it, leaving the pillow behind. It felt like the worst kind of fate to her, having no choice but to resort to such a thing. She slowly reached out a hand and picked it up, its contents giving an innocent rattle as a small bottle fell into her hand.

"SARAH WILLIAMS.

FOR: INSOMNIA

TO TAKE ONCE BEFORE BEDTIME"

She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the bottle against the wall and to tread the little pills to bits. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Even if what she experienced so long ago _hadn't_ been just a dream, she'd won, hadn't she? _Hadn't she?!_

It wasn't fair.

She popped open the lid and shook out a single, tiny white pill. She wanted to laugh. But she was too tired to laugh.

Replacing the top, she put the bag and the container back on her dresser and walked over to her nightstand, picking up a crystal clear glass of water. She stared into it a moment and, holding it up to the light, could almost see the sheer whiteness that had enveloped her just minutes before. Gripping the glass, she knocked back the pill and drank it all down, setting it back down with a clatter that cut through the silence of the room.

"There," she said quietly aloud. "No more of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then...this is without doubt the darkest thing I've ever put down on paper (or file?) to date. I'm not entirely sure what stark corner of my brain it came from, as it wasn't what I set out to write at all, but here it is, in all its grisly glory. The song used is actually a translated, and slightly transliterated, version of a song called "Maria" by Japanese artist Gackt, so he retains all rights to the dark spectacle displayed therein while the concept here inspired by it is all mine. I was translating the song when I noticed how eerily similar the "I am the Devil, come hither, I love you" theme was to the blacker elements of the Labyrinth and this is what ultimately came of it- written rather late at night and under very sleepy conditions that are making me ramble now, so that'll be enough of that. Hope at least a few of you out there enjoy it!
> 
> (and let's be honest- who doesn't like a blood-smeared Jareth?)


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah was nothing if not dutiful. At least since her exposure to _'that place'_. After the night where The Dream assailed her all the way to its finish, she never, ever failed to take her pills.

"So how has it been working out for you?" a feminine voice asked. Sarah's head shot up out of its reverie.

"Hmm?" she replied lamely.

"The pills?" the therapist asked.

"Oh," she said, fumbling with the handle of her bag. She shoved it roughly between herself and the side of the Victorian wing chair. She hated that chair. She felt it loomed over her, leered at her, like….

She frowned.

"They've been working fine," she continued with a smile.

"No bad dreams?" the woman queried with a lift of her brows. Sarah could hear the trace of skepticism in her voice and actively strove not to grind her teeth.

"No bad dreams," she replied sweetly. Perhaps it was a little too sweet. She didn't want to give the whole show away.

Her bad dreams _had_ stopped, but it had been at a price. The price was not dreaming at all, and as she felt herself a creative person at heart, she felt that maybe it was almost worth the nightmares to have all the other, good dreams back. An image of her red-soaked hands flashed across her mind then, and of his face, his unnaturally pale countenance with those narrowed eyes, marred by her bloody handprint, almost like a caress…

"Miss Williams?" the therapist asked in a helpful tone.

Sarah's grip on her purse strap was iron as she saw her hand trace across his cheek, smear down his neck, and finally his chest. His fine tunic…she had ruined it.

"Miss Williams," the woman said more insistently. Sarah blinked and nearly jumped.

"Yes?" she said, clearing her throat.

"Are you alright?" she asked, trying to discretely take notes without taking her eyes off of her patient.

Sarah nodded and plastered on a big, fake smile. "Yes, I'm sorry. I was just thinking of…everything I have to do today, and I guess I zoned out."

The therapist smiled back. "Do you have a lot on your schedule? Let's talk about it…"

—

It was another half hour before she was finally able to escape. She wasn't sure what bothered her more- the feigned small-talk or the presumption that she was fine with taking pills for the rest of her life.

 _It can't continue on like this,_ she thought to herself. _I need to either figure out why my brain won't let me forget about all that, or I need to force it to._ It had been 12 years, though, and she felt that if her mind hadn't figured it out at this point, it was impossible.

She sighed, and slowed her pace as she bounded down the busy city sidewalk. She was headed home, but she didn't want to go. She didn't want to go home, but she didn't know where else she could possibly go. As she turned into her neighborhood, a large neon sign that veritably belted out "HAPPY HOUR" with the amount of color and electricity it employed caused her to stop in her tracks. _Why not?_

Walking over, she saw an arrow helpfully pointing down to a descending staircase, and she gingerly pushed in the splintering entrance door. She looked around as the it clattered shut behind her, taking the last of the real light with it. It was a dank establishment- owing in good part, Sarah reasoned, to being in a basement. Patrons were few despite it being time for the daily specials, when suddenly, like something out of a film, everyone in the bar simultaneously stopped and turned to look at her. Sarah's face grew taught and she timidly gave a rather awkward wave. Then, like it never happened, everyone resumed what they'd been previously doing.

Sarah had no idea how to handle what just happened, and embarrassed by her own stupid reaction, decided it was best to ignore the whole incident entirely and slowly made her way up to the bar. She rested her bag on the counter, and when the barkeep turned in her direction, he looked at it rather than her. Sarah frowned, looking from the bag to the man and back again before it dawned on her.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled, pulling it off the pristinely waxed surface.

"S'alright," he mumbled back. "You'll learn. What'll it be?"

Sarah raised her brows. "Oh. Bourbon and Dr. Pepper?"

The barkeep glanced up at her raising a brow before nodding and attending to her request. Drink in hand, she made her way over to what seemed like a nice, quiet corner table, despite the majority of the tables being wholly unoccupied. She took a sip of the drink from the straw helpfully provided for her and did her best not to make a face. It was strong. This barkeep meant business.

Deciding she needed it, she took another sip, and then another, before finally sitting back to properly observe the room. The place seemed cliché enough- old tiled floor scattered with a smattering of round tables, the back containing a lone and rather ratty-looking pool table where most of the sparse patrons' attentions seemed to be focused. The bar stretched nearly the length of the place, proudly displaying its vast collection of bottles and their sparkling contents as the bartender endlessly polished his pristine counter.

She took another few sips until the straw hit rock bottom and a rather unflattering slurping sound overtook the low drone of a corner TV set that served as the background noise of the place. The bartender, like an animal suddenly overcome by instinct, made his way over and silently replaced her drink.

"Thank you," she replied timidly. He walked off without a word. She took a couple sips from her fresh drink and sighed. She might as well try and be productive. Digging through her bag, she pulled out a large notebook, filled with article ideas and half-finished pieces. So affected was she by what happened when she was fifteen that, despite feeling an overwhelming sense of renewed purpose and optimism immediately afterwards, it seemed everything she did was cursed once the dreams started. Acting became impossible- she could never remember any lines outside of those contained in her little book "The Labyrinth", and she found herself on more than one occasion running screaming from the stage during school plays for reasons she could never ever remember afterwards. Despite numerous attempts to try and figure out the problem, it came to no avail, and she was now Sarah the Reporter. At least her ability to write hadn't left her.

The bar took on a kind of peacefulness for her after awhile as she went over page after page of her notebook. Because the dreams had come back in full force until she finally acquiesced to those awful pills the other night, her work had significantly suffered. Her dreams were always why she could never seem to catch a promotion. Every time, the excuses given always seemed to fringe on her health- she looked too tired, they didn't want to over-work her, they needed someone they could call up at any hour without any trouble, etc. They never mentioned her failing productivity compared to her coworkers. Sarah told herself that it was because in the end, her quality of writing always made up for it.

She had made it three-fourths of the way through the pages in relative silence when a large group of men swung open the door to the bar and bounded inside. Sarah looked up and tried to push herself further into the shadows. Taking another sip of her drink, she noticed her glass was full again. When had it been replaced? Come to think of it, what number was she even on?

The men collected their beers and began to congregate around the tables close to her. She tensed, hoping that maybe they just wouldn't see her. She watched in perfect stillness as they took several swigs from their mugs, conversing loudly and giving each other hearty pats on the back as they laughed. What time was it? She looked down at her wrist and panic shot through her- her watch was nowhere to be found.

She'd had enough. Slowly she pulled her open notebook to her and began to carefully put it back into her bag when, just as their conversation hit a lull, the corner of the cover snagged a pocket of her purse and her keys clattered loudly to the bottom. She winced.

"Well, well, well…." she heard a voice say. Sarah's adrenaline spiked and the words she knew were undoubtedly directed at her seemed very, very far away. "What do we have here?" he continued.

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed heavily. Her anxiety warred with her cynicism. _This really is the most cliché place I've ever stepped foot in._

Pausing briefly, she decided quickly to continue as if no one had spoken to her and finished putting her notebook into her purse. As she turned her head to lean over, it swam viciously, addled with alcohol and adrenaline, but she was determined to not let it show.

"Looks like the little lady came by herself," she heard another male voice say. The group of men laughed.

"Leave her be, Mike," she heard the barkeep's voice say. "She's not interested in you folks."

She heard the squeak of the wooden chair as the man maneuvered himself to reply back. "Aw, Hank, we don't know that for sure, though, do we?"

"Mike…" the barkeep tried, in a warning tone.

Sarah rose to her feet, clutching her bag, and stepped around to the wall, trying desperately to control the spinning room around her so she could make a quick, confident bee-line to the door. The one known as Mike rose to his feet and blocked her path.

"Hey there, sugar," he said. Sarah gritted her teeth- he sounded like he was speaking to a child. "Why the rush all the sudden?"

Sarah looked up and instantly regretted it. Mike was a big man, pock-marked face, and he grinned down at her lecherously as she rested her hand on the opening of her bag.

"No rush at all, Mike. Just ready to go home."

The man's brows shot up in surprise. "You hear that, guys?" he said over his shoulder. "She already knows my name. And we haven't even been properly introduced yet."

Sarah took his distraction as an opportunity to get around him, but he quickly whipped back around and blocked her path.

"You can't leave yet!" he cried, holding out his arms. "You know my name- you gotta tell me yours now."

Sarah stared at the floor. "It's only fair," he continued. She could feel him inching closer to her. Sarah tried to hold her ground, but when he got close enough to where she could feel the heat radiate off of him, she instinctively shuffled a pace back.

"Please…" she mumbled. "I'd just like to leave, if it's alright." The knuckles on her left hand blanched clenching her purse strap as her right carefully groped for access to the inside of her bag.

"No way! We've just gotten to know each other….what was it?" he asked amicably, but then his eyes turned dark. "Your name," he demanded, taking another step towards her.

"Now, Mike—" the sharp voice of the bartender rang out. "Leave her be, and I'll get you another drink. What'll it be?"

Sarah glanced around the room from beneath her lashes and noticed all of the man's companions stifling laughter while the guys around the pool table, looking a bit more like they may be on her side, gripped their pool sticks and took slow steps towards them. At least, she hoped they were on her side. Sarah's hand in her bag hit upon something cold and metallic, and carefully she wrapped her fingers around it. She'd been told over and over again that the city had been dangerous, that she should arm herself somehow. Simply in an effort to placate her father, she purchased a folding knife even though she knew it went against everything he stood for to suggest it to her. _"But it is how it is, these days, Sarah. And if you insist on moving there, well…..surviving is more important_. _"_

His words rang through her ears as her eyes betrayed her by slowly reaching her concealed hand. Mike's eyes snapped to Sarah's purse.

"Hey— what's in there?!" he shouted, and lunged for her. She leapt back, but it wasn't far enough. The last thing she heard was the scratching of the wooden chairs on the tile floor as his hands clenched around her throat and she was shoved hard against the concrete wall. Sarah struggled to take in a breath, but Mike seemed to have done this sort of thing before- his thumbs pressed perfectly on her trachea, and she could feel her coordination failing between the lack of oxygen and the amount of booze in her system. Her hands gripped the knife inside her purse as she struggled to get it out. Suddenly, she felt the pressure dissipate. Her vision was a mess but it was enough to see Mike being pulled away by each arm by the guys from the pool table, but it had been too late. There, in his abdomen, protruded a shining four-inch knife, and as Mike was pulled off it, the blood flowed out of the wound and onto Sarah's hands which held the blade in a death-grip. The whole scene seemed to slow as she felt it slice through more layers of flesh, widening the wound, as he was pulled away, and the stream of blood spilled out onto her as her eyes stared in shock- a puddle of the fluid quickly gaining ground all over the barroom floor.

Sarah knew there were shouts but she couldn't hear them. She fell to her knees, and as her eyes stared into nothing she could sense them laying him down now, sense hands holding the gaping wound. She sat there on her knees, completely forgotten, and as she looked down at her hands, it slammed into her- _Just like the dream, just like the dream…_

Her breathing picked up. She was losing control. " _I can't panic!_ " she tried to scream to herself, but it was useless. Her breathing became so rapid that it was the opposite of breathing. Still clutching the knife out in front of her, she tried to rise to her feet and failed, her foot slipping, slamming her knee into the tile and causing her leg to slide into the pool of blood, nearly knocking her into it face-first as she tried to recover her balance.

Her mouth opened, she screamed, but no sound came out. Her movements became frantic as she finally let go of the knife and pulled herself to her feet. She scrambled for the door when a voice cut through the din.

"HEY! Where do you think you're going?! Murderer!"

Sarah dived for the door handle and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. She heard the cries calling after her, the accusations, the shouts at the man as he apparently slipped away from life, and she shook the handle as violently as she could to try and escape.

"You can't run!" they screamed, and several of the men gathered around her now. Tears streamed down her face, and as she went to wipe them away, it left a trail of blood over her eye going down to her jaw. _Oh my god._ She blinked her eye rapidly, trying to regain vision. _There is blood in my eye. There is BLOOD IN MY EYES!_

As they closed in on her, she felt anxiety so intense that she thought if they didn't kill her, her emotions certainly would. As she closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for whatever was to come, she felt an arm wrap itself across her shoulders from behind and a voice prickling at her ear as she was pulled down and away.

" _Even if you avert your eyes, Sarah….I forgive you everything."_

She gasped, and her eyes opened wide.

She saw round tables, scattered around a dark and dank bar as they had looked from her spot in the corner, and a white apron standing over her.

"Hey…hey miss," said a gruff voice. Sarah's eyes snapped up to see the bartender hovering over her. "You can't sleep here. Gotta go home and do that."

" _What?_ " she asked, her face contorting in confusion. She raised a hand to her face, but hesitated and quickly pulled it away again. She stared at her fingers, her skin. Nothing. Nothing but her own hand.

Sarah groped into her bag, pulled out her wallet, and without a word shoved two twenties across the table, pulled herself around the surprised figure of the barkeep, and slammed herself into the front door as she opened it, barreling up the stairs and into the cool city night.

Her head swam, but not as badly as it had before, and looking at her wristwatch noticed it was nearly midnight. _Shit._

She pulled her jacket around herself and held her bag close as she walked rapidly past the slower, meandering crowd, some of whom gave her strange looks she never once looked up to notice. Finally, as if inevitable, her heedless speeding caused her to collide into someone not fast enough to avoid her path. She heard belongings that were not hers clatter to the ground. All her fault.

"E-Excuse me," she stammered. "I'm very sorry," _but I need to leave right now,_ she wanted to add. "Are you alright?" she managed to say.

"Oh," she heard a rather accented voice reply. "Nothing to fret about, surely…"

Sarah looked up and felt all the stress, and all her drinks, knot up inside her stomach and try to force their way out onto the sidewalk. He stood there, him, staring down at her with those eyes. She felt as if they trapped her where she stood when she noticed how everything was wrong. His hair- short. Clothes- like anyone else's. No, this wasn't him. Couldn't be him. _She_ was the one who was completely wrong.

"Oh god," she said aloud. He grinned down at her as she tried to move away.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his expression the same.

"You're not real," she said breathily, dodging the on-coming foot traffic ahead of her. He followed behind, effortlessly keeping up.

"Aren't I?" he queried casually, hands dug into jean pockets.

"NO!" she bellowed, stopping dead and swinging around to face him. People on the sidewalk slowed suddenly, their conversations becoming hushed, as they parted to go around her. He suppressed a laugh.

"You should mind your tone. People might think you're mad," he said, dubious concern weaved into his voice as he looked her over critically. A corner of Sarah's mouth twitched upward.

"Aren't I?"

"What?" he seemed to say incredulously.

"Haven't I been mad this entire time? Standing on a sidewalk talking to nobody." She swung back around on her heel. Her front door was in sight.

He arched a delicately manicured brow. "I've never been called a 'nobody' before, but I _suppose_ there's a first for everything. Especially with you. Isn't there?"

Sarah took two steps up at a time to reach her street-level door and jammed the key into the lock, pushed the door open, and squeezed inside. As she went to slam it shut, a hand placed squarely on the center of the door provided more opposing force than she could overcome.

"What are you doing?" she said flatly.

"Are you going to make me knock? Is that what you would prefer?" he asked her quietly. She paused and her mind raced. None of this was real. Why was she trying to formulate a way to throw him off?

"What if I said I did?" she said, suddenly. He smiled up at her, revealing delicately pointed teeth.

"I'd say you'd never open the door again."

She remained silent, and caught herself staring at him. He was right, but dammit she didn't want to look. She tried to look anywhere that wasn't him.

"If I'm not real anyway," he began, "what difference does it make if you let me in or not?"

"I am not letting you in," she said quietly.

Carefully, without losing his purchase on her door, he ascended a step, and then another, as Sarah resisted the urge to retreat and thus give up the entrance to her home entirely. Soon, he was standing over her.

"Yes," he said softly. "You are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After such a sterling response to my first chapter, I decided that I'd do another. I think I should probably be worried that it's so easy to write this story...


	3. chapter 3

_"I am not letting you in," she said quietly._

_Carefully, without losing his purchase on her door, he ascended a step, and then another, as Sarah resisted the urge to retreat and thus give up the entrance to her home entirely. Soon, he was standing over her._

_"Yes," he said softly. "You are."_

Her grip tightened on the edge of her door. She tried to look down, but could feel his eyes on her and could no longer resist. She looked up, and caught his full gaze upon her. He didn't only dare her with his words, but with his eyes as well.

Nails digging into the door paint, her lips tightened and she quirked a brow up at him. He frowned back in return, and in that split second, sensing distraction, she pushed on the door with all her might, slamming it shut, and locking it behind her, wishing desperately she had more deadbolts than she did.

Outside her door, he sighed. "This solves nothing, Sarah," he called loudly at the metal shut against him. On the other side, Sarah slumped against it, pushing still despite it being firmly shut and very well locked. He'd used her name. Despite the determination that had succeeded in winning back control of her door, tears began prickling at her eyes and she looked up at the ceiling desperate to hold them back as his muffled voice called to her.

She heard the shuffle of feet. "Sarah?" he called again. She instinctively held herself against the entrance, when right next to her head came three firm knocks. "Sarah, can you hear me?" he called again. She closed her eyes as a tear ran down her cheek.

"Please go away…" she murmured almost silently. Her fingers gripped at the metal. She froze in place.

After several seconds of nothing, she slowly, delicately, careful to make no sound whatsoever against her front door, pulled away and padded silently to her front window where, to her relief, her blinds were drawn. Kneeling down, she took a deep breath, flexed her fingers, shoot out her hands, and, resting the blade of blinds on the very tip of the back of the nail on her index finger, slowly, carefully raised it. She dared to raise it only very slightly, making her bend awkwardly to allow her peer through the space she'd created.

He was still there. But, she noted with significant relief, he did not see her. She watched him as he shuffled around her door landing, watched as he stared pointedly, and with narrowed eyes, at her front door, apparently successfully closed against him, and as he shifted his gaze to examine the rest of her building.

She held her breath as his gaze made their way back down to the front facade and she slowly lowered her finger to replace the blade. She released the breath, and her blinds billowed slightly. She froze. Did he see it? Did he know she was watching?

Sarah backed away slowly from the window, careful not to disturb the air currants again, and quietly made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. As she passed through the door, her eyes darted to her bedroom window- it was in the wrong place to try and spy on him from above.

She sighed. She was exhausted. Running into _him_ again had at least made her forget, momentarily, that she'd just killed a man at the bar. Only, she hadn't really killed him. Sarah slumped down on her bed. What was going on? It had certainly felt like she'd killed him. She looked down at her hands. Clean.

She narrowed her eyes at her bedroom door. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet and bounded down the stairs and into her living room. Shoving her hands into the blinds, she noisily wretched open the blades. Despite the assistance of the street lights, it took her a moment before her eyes fixed upon him, still standing outsider her door but on the stairs now, and picking up on the movement of her blinds against her window, she watched as his eyes met hers and she scowled. Flinging the blinds away, she heard it clatter against her windowsill as she pounded up the stairs, back into her bedroom, and snatched up the bottle now resting on her nightstand. Rattling out a lone pill, she tossed it back, making a slight face at having to drink the water left over from the night before, stripped off her clothes into warmer night attire, and flung herself into bed.

As the drugs began to take hold, she pulled the covers up around her and closed her eyes. Mindlessly, she realized she'd left the lamp on. _No, leave it on,_ she thought. Her dreams were blessedly empty.

—

When Sarah awoke in the morning and readied herself for work, she always wondered at how, despite the pills' ability to completely clear her mind of thoughts as she slept, she still woke up feeling exhausted. She could no longer remember what it was like to experience a good nights' sleep, let alone what it was like to wake up refreshed.

When she reached her door, she pulled on her shoes, and pulled it open. Almost immediately, panic seized her stomach in a vice grip. Where was he?

As she stared outside, there was no one there. She blinked. Peering around to make sure her eyes were definitely not deceiving her, with a wary expression she set foot out her door, closed it behind her, and felt with trepidation as the lock clicked into place with her key.

With a deep sigh, she told herself it was time to go to work, and she stepped down the stairs to the curb to hail an on-coming cab.

As the yellow taxi pulled up, its door swung open and Sarah scooted inside.

"Park Row," she leaned to tell the driver, and as she sat back, she felt herself brush against something. Looking up, she nearly screamed in surprise. As a gloved hand shot up to delicately but firmly cover her mouth, _he_ looked down at her with a quiet shhh.

Sarah stared in panic. Her eyes darted towards the cabbie, unable to believe that he couldn't see what was happening.

"I'm going to let go now, so long as you promise not to make any high-pitched noise that may make the confines of a small taxi cab intolerable," he said, not bothering to disguise the amusement in his voice. "Agreed?" he asked, his brow, trimmed in mortal imitation, arching upward.

As the shock began to wear off, she contemplated her options. She could scream anyway. She could try to bite him. No. He found her, sat outside her house, hijacked her cab…her dreams….although she'd tried desperately to reason it away, she knew her dreams couldn't have come just from her once over-active imagination, now dulled almost senselessly by the sleeping pills she'd come to rely on so heavily just to attain comparatively peaceful oblivion.

Her brows furrowed together, and she nodded. He nodded back and, slowly, his hand fell from her mouth.

They stared at one another in silence as the car took another corner.

"Who are you?" she asked finally. He scoffed.

"Why Sarah, I'd've thought by now you'd know who I am," he said with an affected frown. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

"No. I need to hear it from you. I need you to say it," she said, looking at him as she tried and failed to conceal the worry on her face. Maybe she _was_ insane. Maybe the cabbie was staying silent because he knew better than to mess with the crazies.

His shoulder leaned into the seat of the cab as he sighed, looking thoughtfully at her. Leaning in conspiratorially close, he looked up at her when the motion made his head bow.

"I am Jareth," he began, his low tone masked by the engine and traffic noise so that only she could hear. "And you….you are Sarah, whether you like it or not."

He leaned back and took in a deep breath before resuming his more casual countenance. Sarah's face fell, and she could feel the blood drain from her as he finally said it.

"And once upon a time, _you_ , my dear, ran my Labyrinth…" he trailed off, looking at her. Sarah's mind was trying its best to juggle too many thoughts and ideas and concepts at once when his eyes took on a wistful look, distracting her, and causing the balancing act in her brain to come crashing down. She frowned.

"My Labyrinth…" he repeated, eyes still lingering on her.

The corner of Sarah's mouth twitched. "What about it?" she asked reflexively.

His eyes shifted past her now, looking out the window she reckoned, when his head dropped to the side.

"Well," he began, a soft smile playing at his lips. "You destroyed it."

Sarah's eyes widened in shock, and her mind pulled her back into the nightmare—

_The castle….her fault…all her fault…_

Sarah shook her head violently. "What?" she half yelled, glaring at him.

He leaned his arm against the car seat as he looked down at her.

"It's true!" he declared casually. "All gone."

Sarah slowly turned away from him, desperate to lose herself in anything other than the current conversation. The traffic passed by as they neared her destination. Jareth played absentmindedly with the fingers of his gloves.

"It took about a year or so," he continued, "but there isn't a trace of it left now…"

She could feel his eyes on her but she couldn't bring herself to look away from the dashboard of the car and all the little meters working away on it. Silence. It had been about a year after her adventures when Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus no longer seemed to come when she called. She figured they'd just grown tired of chatting with a high school kid, or that maybe something else was keeping them. After a few more failed attempts, she didn't try again. It wasn't much longer after that when the nightmare began to reveal itself to her, little by little.

"How?" she finally asked.

Jareth's brows rose. "How?" he repeated. "The how would be you. You do remember the state of things when last we saw each other."

Sarah pulled her gaze away and looked at him in confusion. "But…but that was just part of the test, wasn't it? It wasn't _really_ that the—"

He glared down at her, cutting her words short. "Wasn't really that you destroyed the center of my castle that tore a hole like one of your 'black holes' through my kingdom that began a chain reaction that swallowed its creation whole?" he said, biting into his words as he spoke them. Sarah could only listen, pain visible in her eyes as she listened. Silence, again. She was so torn that she could hardly see where to begin.

Suddenly he laughed. Her frown deepened. His head fell back with his laugh, somehow managing to avoid bumping into the window behind him.

"Can it really be," he said, pulling himself together, "That you are finally at a loss for words, Sarah?"

She gritted her teeth.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day," he finished, wiping at the base of his eye with his gloved forefinger.

Sarah's own fingers dug into her bag as she glared at him. The cab, finally, came to a halt.

"$24.36," the cabbie said, craning back to glance at her. Without taking her eyes off him, she reached into her bag and fumbled for her wallet. She paused.

Leaning over through the dividing window she looked at the driver and said quietly, "Excuse me, but please- do you see the guy sitting in the back here?"

Sarah heard a laugh behind her and a muffled, " _Really,_ Sarah!" She felt a hand brush against her leg and tried to lift up a heeled foot to kick at it. The cabbie, put off by anyone invading his precious front car space, glanced into the rearview mirror and saw a man with pale blonde hair waving rather sarcastically at him.

He looked back at the lady. "Blonde. Mid to late 30s. Gloves, leather jacket, yeah, I see 'im."

Sarah sighed and nodded, shoving the money and a very generous tip through the limited space through the window. "Thank you," she murmured as she pulled her head back through.

She sat back down and tried to collect her things. "So is there something I can do or something?" she asked absently. "Is that why you're here bothering me like this?"

He watched her with vague amusement and shook his head. "Not a thing. As I told you before, the Labyrinth is totally gone."

She snapped her head up. "Then what is it you want from me?" she growled. Jareth tried to look hurt.

"That's a very cruel tone, Sarah," he chided, folding his arms in front of him. Somehow even in the confines of a taxi cab he managed to stay imposing. Sarah blinked.

"You have places to be, though, don't you?" he said, and he leaned towards the driver. "If you could be so kind as to open the door for the lady…" he said, and the door swung open in compliance. Sarah caught her belongings to herself and frowned.

"You're kicking me out?" she said in disbelief. He merely smiled. "This is ridiculous," she mumbled.

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll see each other again soon. After all…" he trailed off, smoothing down the creases in his jacket. "I owe you for slamming the door on me last night."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest but he interrupted her. "Did you sleep well, by the way?" he said. He cocked his head to the side in feigned concern. Sarah's mouth snapped firmly shut again as dread swept over her.

Spinning in her place on the taxi seat, she swung her legs out of the vehicle, ground her heels into the pavement, and walked as fast as her footwear would allow into her office building.

She thought she heard his voice laughing behind her as she left and clutched her belongings to her as the vehicle sped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Finally, some adventurous souls left very treasured comments! Gracious thanks to trudy101 and abrande for their bravery, as well as to all the kudo-givers and book-markers! This story is an experimental piece for me, as I only write a chapter under certain conditions which are half met by the story and half met by myself. In a couple weeks I'll be moving to strange new shores which may hamper the timeliness of the next chapter, but if things do get up to snuff before then, I'll do my best to put out chapter four before that. Thanks again for reading, and sweet dreams...


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